Good Will Hunnington
by BoogityWhup16
Summary: Hun 'dissapeared' a few years ago, and the word on the street is he's got Religion. But, The Turtles need his help to take down the Purple Dragons one last time. Not to worry! Creative solutions are what YWAMers do best!
1. Prologue

Hello to any and all readers (I'm not expecting too many). I have rated this fic T just to be safe, but that's mostly because of future fight scenes and Hun's relationship with his wife (OC).

DISCLAIMER: Of course, I own nothing of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in this story. I do own all YWAM characters. They are all shamelessly based off of people I know that are real Missionaries, just names changed about for potential security reasons.

Read on, my little friends!

I stand here, watching the scene onstage with more trepidation than I'm sure I should be feeling; a disorganized-looking, rag tag group having a chat-session. One small college age kid, in flip-flops and messy curly hair sitting next to a guitar case seemed to be regaling his two buddies with an animated retelling of some kind. One was a large (not as large as me, of course) rather hairy-faced thing and a redheaded girl with a couple piercings, both wearing head kerchiefs and aprons, obviously kitchen staff…Too many talky people in coffee shops. At least the boys won't find me here. If they did I could very well kiss my already-weakening control goodbye. Here I can have space, think about stuff. Some things have been bothering me a lot lately, but the air in here is different, somehow, and I don't really know what to make of it.

An extremely mellow waitress with a nice tan and a boy's haircut shuffles to my table.

"Nice night out, eh?"

Interesting. You don't meet too many Canadians in New York City. Well, not in this area.

I shrugged. "It's OK."

"Can I get you anything?"

I sigh as I look back at her. No looking up, even though I'm sitting. I used to think I'd get used to being bigger than everyone. Interesting that nobody in here seemed intimidated by me, though. "I'll have the Cappuccino, and two Boston crèmes."

"Awesome." She takes my menu out of my hands. "We've got a club-sandwich special tonight too, and, as you can see, our cooks could use something to do."

I chuckle, surprising myself. "Um, yeah, I guess I could use a club. Make that two, and a soda to go with."

She smiles languidly and turns around. "Hey! Nathan and Geneva!"

The aprons spun about so fast they nearly knocked together with a chorus of 'Wha?' and 'You called, oh grand Canadian One?'

"Orders up!"

They grin and make a bee-line for the narrow swinging doors, the large one pulling the girl to a halt by her apron strings before shooting in just in front of her. Her protest only preceded her entrance by a fraction of a second. The waitress shakes her head and heads to the coffee bar to fix my drink.

I leaned back in my chair, hearing it creak beneath me and wincing. I was the largest person I knew, and so often I felt smaller than I knew other people saw me. Well, master did see me as small, that much I could tell. I accepted it, wanting, striving for his acceptance, his approval, any pride in me at all.

Until that strange kid with the dreadlocks at the bus stop, going on about ninja sloths. At first I thought he was serious, but quickly learned otherwise. He didn't stop talking for a while, and honestly, for the life of him, I couldn't really remember everything the kid had said, but I did know it was making sense. Maybe a little too much sense. That's why I was here tonight; the kid promised to show up and talk. I ran a hand through shorter hair than I had had in a long time. It helped the tension, and I pondered my previous decision to grow it longer again. Nah, I liked it this length.

"David Hunnington? Good to see you again!"

Ah, the crazy kid. I smiled my greetings. SMILED? Crud. I'm going nuts. Dreads slid into the chair across from me as I realized exactly how glad I was to see him. Can't remember the last time I had met someone like him.

"Do you like the place?"

"Yeah," I shrugged. "It's nice."

Dreads' smile widened. "The food's better. Two certified food addicts run the kitchen."

"The hairy one and the redhead?"

Dreads nodded. "Yup, Neeves and Nate."

The food arrived with my coffee, perhaps all too soon, but I was more than a little relieved. I could just ask a question, not have to talk, just eat and listen. I took a bite of my first club and nodded my approval.

"Good?"

"Good."

"David, I was wondering if you had any question from the last time we talked."

I shrugged, more to myself than in response to him. I wasn't sure really. Just one thing that kept bugging me.

"Grace?"

And the fountain poured from his mouth. Things I had always wanted to hear. Things I knew when I heard them, but knew not how I had known. Truth and chaos and…perfect love. Two words I had never known could exist like that, together. And I stopped hearing the kid after a while, but could hear the other kid on the stage, and his voice is thinner, softer, but I feel it punch through me.

_Wish I had what I needed_

_To be on my own_

'_Cause I feel so defeated_

_And I'm feeling alone_

My hands clench.

_And it all feels so helpless_

_And I have no plans_

_I'm a plane in the sunset_

_With nowhere to land_

My feet aren't on the ground. I'm falling, my head breaking.

_And all I see it could_

_Never make me happy_

_And all my sandcastles_

_Spend their time collapsing_

My hands are shaking and my head is buzzing around the music forcing itself into and through ears so long unhearing.

_LET ME KNOW THAT YOU HEAR ME_

_LET ME KNOW YOUR TOUCH_

_LET ME KNOW THAT YOU LOVE ME_

_AND LET THAT BE ENOUGH_

"God?" I hear myself croak. I am shaking all over, and I clench, trying to still myself, trying to look in control. I'm almost angry. Almost.

"What the hell would He want with me?!"

And Dreads tells me. He tells me exactly what God wants with me.

"Another master?" I splutter, trying to pull my mind, myself, into submission.

"Yes. Another master. One that cares. One that loves you more than you could ever love him."

And what would I do with such a master?

"One that is more faithful that you could ever hope to be."

What would such a master say to me; a failure?

"… 'Well done, my good and faithful servant…'"

_LET ME KNOW THAT YOU HEAR ME_

_LET ME KNOW YOUR TOUCH_

_LET ME KNOW THAT YOU LOVE ME_

_AND LET THAT BE ENOUGH_

And I am reduced to shame. I bow my head, lower than that of the kid sitting across from me. A kid who has never seen what I have…who has never done what I have.

I weep.

And not a single person in the café says a word. They leave me to my shame, but as I rain across the old tabletop, the pieces of my pride falling just as quickly, I know that this fear, this fist that has held my heart in its iron grip for most of my life, is falling away, and being replaced by something I have never felt before.

Peace

Comfort

Fullness

Fire…not of anger, but of desire, of connection.

Dreads says nothing for a very long time, even walks to the kitchen. When I am finished, however, my tears dried, my face, I am sure, resembling that of a small child, he reseats himself and places a large mug of steaming tea in front of me.

I speak, my voice betraying and frustrating me. Weakness. "What?" I pick up the mug and take a long drink, feeling…thankful. I don't know if I'm going to get used to this. "Do you want to watch me shame myself more?"

Dreads smiled, the tired smile of a war comrade. He knew…he knew everything.

"Nah. The kitchen staff was just wondering if you wanted anything else." He passed me a menu. "They both tend to get hungry after being…spoken to."

And through my broken self I smiled back. I will get used to this. It just might take awhile.


	2. Chapter 1

Official Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: at the top of Prologue. Don't really want to write it again. Refer back if you doubt me.

_Fear and hate. I feel this poison course through my arms, though my chest, my head and my heart. I lean over my latest victim, watching him bleed just like I want him to. His left arm broken, he raises his right to shield his face. Stupid little snitch. He was going to feel sorrier than he did now. One more punch sends him flying back into the wall behind. His thin form crumples beneath him and he reaches up to hold a gash on his head, trying to staunch the bleeding maybe, but definitely trying to stay conscious. I pick up a pipe._

_I don't want this._

_I was free now, wasn't I?_

_Wasn't I?_

_But my arms and hands do not obey. My face twists, a picture of my empty heart, a man unfulfilled. I'm reaching, hoping for the love I know is there, and find nothing._

_But the face of the boy, is different now. It's her, my girl, my wife, my Peach, and she's crying, crying for me to stop and I can't. I scream, my anger flowing down my veins into my hands. The pipe connects._

"David! Baby?! Baby, Wake up!!!"

I jerk upright, upsetting the redhead leaning over me. She pulls away quickly, looking startled, but relieved.

"Peach?" my breathing is shallow, and I raise a hand to wipe my face, now wet with ice cold sweat and streaming tears. There she is; my blessing, my wife. My ridiculous, loud, disorganized Peach. My hand flies to skim over her face, her hair, her arms…

My kisses find hers and I convince myself she's here in my arms.

She's OK. Everything's OK.

I sigh, exhausted, sinking back onto pillows wet with my own sweat. I'm OK.

A small hand finds my cheek, followed by the owner. She's kneeling on the stiff mattress and leaning over me, once again, that look of worry in her face. If I wasn't feeling so happy that she was here, I would have shrunken back from her inspection. I hate making her worry. She sees my discomfort and slowly pulls her hand away, looking sad, small.

Immediate, Situational Guilt. Haven't felt that in a while.

She pulls herself over to lay on my chest, her ear to my heartbeat.

"What are you doing?" I croak, my throat grating. I clear it. She just smiles. "What?"

"I'm listening to your heart," She whispers back.

"Why?"

The Peach pulls up and smiles quietly at me before kissing my chest just above my heart. "Just reminding myself how big it is…"

I gather my blessing to my side and hold her as tightly as I dare.

"What was your dream about?" She whispers, voice tentative. I can feel her hesitation. She doesn't fear me, exactly, and she wants to make me feel better, but sometimes I know I _can_ frighten her, make her fear the old me. The me before all of this. She wants to know, at least, she will sooner or later.

"The usual." I rumble. "I…I hate it."

She relaxes, nuzzling me like a kitten. Four deep breaths. Five.

"_Dear Lord, we know your grace is everlasting…_"

My muscles loosen as I listen to my wife pray for me. Every word I hear, I affirm, my eyes remembering the dream more vividly than I could ever want. The pressure on my temples loosens just as I hear the prayer trail off, my Peach's breathing slow and even.

Maybe I oughtn't be, but for all that I'm relieved, I'm really frustrated.

_Lord…why am I still afraid? You said I was forgiven! You said…you said my shame was taken away. I just don't want to remember this anymore. I don't want this guilt._

**I have taken your sins from you. You need not be ashamed.**

_Yes…but what of my failures?_

**Fear not. You are forgiven and loved, my child.**

**You are blessed.**

I breathe in the smell that has long since permeated the building; spices, coffee, and New York Smog.

I look through the bedroom window to the gathering light above the rooftops.

I run my fingers through my wife's hair, drinking in the scent of sticky rice and apple candy, the memories of kimchi-soup breakfasts, show tunes sung in the shower, and garlic kisses.

_Yes I am. I am Blessed._

Peach. My very own Peach.

I haven't called her Neeves, like everyone else does, since my first week at the mission house. That night, when I came down to the kitchen, unable to sleep at half-past two, and caught her inhaling a good two pints of peaches and cream, I think that was when I fell in love. I've called her Peach ever since.

Of course, she had no idea I liked her. She wouldn't have had me at the beginning anyway, even if she had known. I _was_ intimidating, and pretty immature. She called me 'Sir' or 'Grand Sir' for the first year, thinking it was funny how big I was, but I did like it, her teasing me, that is. I felt like a Kid again. I tried to deny it, of course, being so much older than her, but God, or 'The Old Man', as she likes to call him, always has a plan up his sleeve. A plan I much approved of, obviously.

It's been five years last week since I've left the Dragons. Five years and three weeks since I've become a Christian. I've been married for two and a half.

God has forgiven me.

My wife has forgiven me.

But I still have _days_, you know, when I remember all too well what I needed that forgiveness for. Good thing both God and my wife are patient with me…

I eye the clock on the bedside table with vague irritation. 5:38 AM. I might as well go run. No good sleeping now. I extricate myself from the sheets and the freckled arms of my blessing.

Sweats, T-shirt, sneakers…

And something to talk to The Old Man about?

Of course! What else are runs for?

— At the Lair – Leonardo

I shouldn't watch the news. It's bad for me, especially at six in the morning. It's not as though we keep regular hours, being only nocturnal by survival habits, but it always seems to be the favorite time for bad news, and, if that was enough, it only seems to be then that the old 'pissed-off' Leo comes back. You remember him, the one that acts like Raph on a bad day? Yeah, that one.

Well, today seemed to deserve it.

"_Channel 5 breaking news with Cleon Eldridge."_

I turned from my meditation. I had been training for hours and was trying to quiet my mind before going to sleep. Unfortunately, the whole 'quieting the mind thing' wasn't going to happen tonight.

"_A recent string of heists was capped off last night by the capture of several tons of military goods."_

Maybe I wouldn't have been quite as excited as I became at this news, had the next picture on the screen not involved something I was not fond of. A security camera at the scene had been, apparently, improperly blacked out, and managed to capture the back of one of the hijackers. That back was sporting a jacket with an elaborate purple dragon embroidered on it. I nearly had an aneurism.

"_Donnyraphmikey_—_SENSEI_!!!!!"

They responded pretty quickly to my panic attack. I should do this more often. Mikey swings down first and catches the picture as it is pulled to one corner of the screen. His face turns a much lighter shade of green. Raph's color travels to the other end of the spectrum. Donny just stands staring calmly at the monitor.

For some reason, this bothers me most.

"What is it, Donny?" I spin to face him, apprehension getting the best of me.

"Huh? Oh, urm, well, to be honest, no, but it seems odd that the purple dragons would be resurfacing now. I mean, it's been five years since Hun disappeared, right?"

Raph shook his head. "It doesn't have to be Hun who's in charge for the dragons to be operational."

"I agree with Raph," Mikey interjected enthusiastically, swinging from a low-hanging bar. "Besides, didn't you guys ever hear the rumors?"

"What? That Hun was dead?"

"Huh-uh! That's just newspaper shell. The word on the street is much more ominous!"

"Did Mikey just use the word 'ominous'?"

"That's three whole syllables!"

"Hey!" Mikey scowled before airily throwing down his conversational trump card. "My point is that, apparently, Hun got Religion."

I hesitated before responding. Something about this whole thing was doing more than making me mad, it was getting under my shell like an itch I couldn't scratch. My irritation made me a bit snippier than I intended.

"What the shell do you mean, Mikey? What 'Religion'?"

Mikey giggled in that annoying way he had when he knew something we didn't, which didn't happen often, but often involved something we'd rather not know about at all.

"Well, according to my _sources_, he's become some sort of missionary. A Christian fanatic."

The others didn't seem to be getting it either. At least I wasn't the only one. Raph appeared to be tattooing an original-looking knuckle pattern into his left hand. "Mikey, if I was you, I'd start telling us what you know."

Mikey, of course, was not pleased with this news. "Aw, why? You guys always know what's going on, but now I've got the info…I'm starting to think about holding onto this moment as long as possible…OW!"

Input from Sensei is always so helpful, don't you think?

"Alright, alright!" He rubbed his sore head. "Well, when Hun disappeared? They say he faked his death and that he's currently working at a café and halfway house on the lower east side that belongs to a Christian mission."

"What kind of place is it?"

"Word is, full of hippies. They'll even serve aliens in that joint."

Raph let out a low whistle. I had to agree. More than 6 years since the Triceraton invasion, and people were still a little ticked at aliens in general. Enough of them around nowadays, but to find anyplace that would actually serve aliens? It was rare, to say the least. Unfortunately, that also ruled out our prime suspect…unless…

"Well, I hope your informant knows exactly where this 'café' is, because we're going there now."

"Why?"

"We're going to pay Hun a visit."

"If he's actually alive." Donny added, rather unnecessarily, I thought. I gave a light glare in his direction.

"Let's just say we're working under that assumption, hmm?"

Donny nodded.

"What are we visiting him for?"

"We're just going to make sure he's feeling as religious as people seem to think he is."

"You think he's behind this?"

I did wonder. "I don't know, Raph, but if he isn't, then we've eliminated one suspect."

My shower didn't come quick enough. Tired today. Feeling older, but that's understandable. Just one more thing I keep asking The Old Man. What's going to happen to Peach when I go? Every time I ask that, though, I feel like The Old Man is laughing at me, telling me not to borrow trouble. Fine enough with me.

I had to be in the kitchen by seven that morning, setting up. Nathan was the usual suspect, but honeymoons tend to put people out of commission, so I was filling in. Imagine my increased enthusiasm for the morning when I met my work partner, the person signed up for morning dishwashing duty.

"Morning Gorgeous!" she yanked my ear down, bringing me close enough so she could kiss me properly. I definitely wasn't complaining. "Feeling better?"

I nodded, trying to smooth the knot from my brow with considerable difficulty as I watched her disappear inside the pantry. "Yeah, The Old Man and I had a nice chat this morning."

"That's good." She reappeared, bearing two aprons and beckoning for me to kneel down. I obeyed, smiling, and watched her as she slipped the larger one over my head. "What's on the menu for today?" She walked around me to tie the back strings and I let my face muscles relax. Surprisingly, my expression didn't fall into a frown.

"Potato soup, turkey clubs, and rice with ropa vieja."

"Sounds fantastic."

"Don't see why that matters, Neeves. You'd eat anything non-cheese-like, even if it were rocks with Ketchup." I laughed at the comment from the fellow just entering the kitchen, watching as he picked up the grocery list for today. Joel Vandenbrand was a tall, thin Dutch fellow; odd, in the friendly-but-intense kind of way. At any rate, he was Peach's unofficial 'big brother'. At the moment, however, Peach looked less than pleased with him. Her glare took verbal shape only a moment later when Joost was on his way back out the swinging door.

"Whatever, old man!"

"My, my, my! So early, and already no suitable comebacks?" I tossed at her. That earned a snapped towel to the rear, but I just laughed. Multiple beatings made for tough skin. I would always win Towel Wars, of it came to that. I twisted mine.

"Hey! No! You can't do that!" My grin must have been stretched from one ear to the other because she was laughing and backing into the pantry, trying desperately to re-twist her towel.

"Oh? And why not?"

"Because I'm girl, that's why!" One missed snap and I lunged.

"Oi!"

"AHA!!! I win again!"

"Hey! No fair! You can't play 'forehead-kiss' tag when we're both standing!"

"Why ever not?"

"Cause you're too tall, Land-Mass, that's why! I haven't a chance."

"I know!"

A throat behind us cleared. We both spinned to face the Mouth of Wade. A formidable weapon of its own. The kid had a face-hole the size of the Mississippi delta and when he smiled, talked, or heaven forbid, yawn, people just had to stare. Interestingly enough, however, Wade wasn't smiling, which was unusual. He looked a little nervous.

"Yes, Wade?"

"I'm, urm, sorry to interrupt Pastor David, but somebody wants to talk to you."

I frowned. The gas-meter guy, maybe?

"Who is it?"

Wade shrugged. "Don't know. Never seen 'em before. Aliens."

I gave him a once-over. "Is there something wrong, Mouth?"

At the mention of his favorite nickname, Wade's face only twitched a corner upward as he shifted, suddenly interested in the kitchen linoleum. "Well, pastor, one of 'em's got swords."

I was past Wade before he could tell me anymore, trying to pull down the sleeves of my cotton shirt.

They haven't even been looking for me. I've been gone five years and they haven't bothered. They've got a new leader. Snake is on top now. Who was here for me?

I threw the swinging door and took two long strides before stopping, frozen, in my tracks. I only vaguely felt Peach run into me as she shot out the door behind me. Every muscle tensed, my knuckles nearly popping with their own anticipation of what used to come with the sight that greeted me. Blood pumped through me like fire hoses. I wasn't sure I wouldn't pop.

I heard a short cough sound behind my back. "Honey…Honey! What's up?"

The blue one pulled a sword out from behind his back and I opened my stance, hoping Peach didn't get any bright ideas.

_Lord, please keep her safe._

Blue decided to take a step forward.

"David! Psst! What's going on?"

"…Aw, Crud…"

AHA! I know, I'm awful, only not so much. Please review! Tell me what you think! It's been a long time since I've posted anything on I haven't really had enough confidence.


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